


The Honey Trap

by LittlebutFiery



Series: The Knight and His Lady [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Mission Fic, Something of a crackfic, alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 23:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15205628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlebutFiery/pseuds/LittlebutFiery
Summary: In an effort to get a promotion to better care for his growing family, Havoc accepts an undercover mission for Mustang. It doesn't go quite how he expects.





	The Honey Trap

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, thanks to the ever-lovely @1stTimeCaller for beta'ing this for me! It's way better because of her.

The uncharacteristically studious silence in the office was broken by the sound of someone’s stomach growling extraordinarily loudly.

The team all looked up from their work, casting glances around at each other, before Breda noticed the distinct pink tinge to Havoc’s cheeks. He chuckled, “Jeez, Havoc, you sound like you haven’t eaten in a week.”

Havoc mumbled a halfhearted retort before his stomach growled again. Mustang joined in the laughter, saying, “Go get some lunch, Lieutenant. Your work will still be here when you get back.”

As Havoc started to obey, Mustang’s stomach growled as well. The lieutenant grinned and said, “C’mon, boss. Let’s go together. Sounds like you need it too.”

Mustang nodded, grabbing his jacket and following Havoc out the door. Havoc suggested, “How about that new Xingese joint? It’s only like a block away.”

The pair ambled down the street, idly exchanging polite small talk, before they arrived at the restaurant. Mustang opened the door and was about to head inside when Havoc stopped, a soft, frustrated, “ _ Fuck! _ ” escaping his lips.

Mustang simply raised an eyebrow, so Havoc explained despondently, “I forgot that we don’t get paid until tomorrow. I…literally don’t have any cash. I had to give Becca my food money so she could pay for her doctor’s appointment.”

“I can cover it,” Mustang waved him off as he headed inside.

The pair slid into a booth and placed their orders before Mustang’s lips quirked in a smile and he asked, “So why did you want to talk to me, Havoc?”

“What?” Havoc asked, startled from his musing on a painting on the wall.

“I don’t mind spending time with my men. Not at all. But I don’t think I’ve ever had a meal with just you outside of the hospital,” Mustang replied. “I assume you wanted to talk to me about something privately.”

Havoc laughed, abashed. “I should’ve figured you’d catch on.”

Mustang waited for Havoc to go on, although the taller soldier hesitated, wringing his hands and avoiding Mustang’s eye. The alchemist asked gently, “Rebecca’s doing better, yes?”

“Oh, yeah,” Havoc nodded. “Much better. The doc says she and the baby are doing great.”

After a moment he sighed and said, “No, just forget it, boss. I…I’m just being an idiot. I…it’s…it’s not worth even bringing up.”

“It’s clearly bothering you,” Mustang pressed. “What’s wrong?”

Havoc winced, gathered his courage, and blurted out, “What do I need to do to get a promotion?”

“What?” Mustang asked, caught off-guard.

“I…I know you’re not supposed to ask for promotions. And I know I’m not exactly the best soldier. But…I really need one. I’ll do anything,” Havoc pleaded.

“What brought this on?” Mustang asked.

“…I’m just trying not to be a fuckup. For Becca and the baby,” Havoc mumbled, still unable to make eye contact.

“Yes, I’m aware. And you’ve certainly cleaned up your act,” Mustang nodded. “But a promotion? That’s…something a little different.”

Havoc winced again as he remembered a conversation he’d had with Rebecca a few days prior.

_ “How was dress shopping?” Havoc asked as he arrived home from work, pressing a kiss to Rebecca’s cheek. _

_ She sighed. “Not great.” _

_ “Nothing catch your eye?” Havoc asked. _

_ “No…a few did. There was one that I really loved. I’d even look good in it when I’m as big as I’m going to be at the wedding,” Rebecca shook her head. _

_ “So why didn’t you get it?” Havoc pressed. _

_ “We can’t afford it,” Rebecca smiled sadly. “Not even close.” _

_ “I mean…Mom and Dad said they’d help us with the money. And Heymans and the guys, too. Since we’re skipping the bachelor party, they said they’d take the money that they would’ve used on that and put it towards stuff for the wedding,” Havoc said. _

_ Rebecca shook her head again. Her voice was a little thinner as she said, “We still won’t be able to. The dress itself costs about as much as we have saved for the wedding. I want to look pretty, but I’ve got to be realistic. It’s fine, I’ll find something else.” _

_ “Didn’t Riza tell me you’ve been dreaming about your wedding since you were little?” Havoc asked. “The dress, all of that? You seem so…indifferent about this.” _

_ She blinked back tears before offering a forced smile. “It’s a shotgun wedding, Jean. I’m not expecting much.” _

_ “Yeah, but this is your big day,” Havoc said, guilt tearing at his insides. “I want you to have what you want.” _

_ “I have you, and we’ve got a baby coming soon. That’s enough for me,” Rebecca replied. _

Sitting in front of Mustang, Havoc had to fight off guilty tears. Fuck, he loved Rebecca so much, and he’d fucked this up all to hell.  

“I…I’ve fucked up a lot of things. For Becca, for me, for our baby. But I’m not going to let our wedding be one of them. She’s been dreaming about this since she was a little girl. I’m going to give her the wedding she’s always wanted,” Havoc said, voice firm. “We can’t remotely afford it right now. If I get a promotion, and the bonus that comes with it, I think we can do it.”

Mustang looked surprised. “Lieutenant, I’m more than happy to pay for it for you. You know that, yes?”

Havoc shook his head. “You’ve done enough for the both of us, sir. We don’t need any pity money.”

“It’s not…” Mustang started to argue.

“I know it’s not meant that way, but that’s what it feels like. I made this mess, and I need to be the one to clean it up,” Havoc insisted. “I can’t just rely on everybody else to fix my fuck-ups. I…I’ve gotta prove to Becca that I mean this, and that I’m not just marrying her because I knocked her up. She needs to know that I really want to be with her. And…right now…I don’t think she does.”

Mustang was quiet a moment, thinking. Havoc went on tiredly, “I know Riza’s promotion just got approved. And she deserves it. She really does. And honestly…Heymans or Vato probably deserve a promotion more than me. I don’t want to screw them over, either, since I’m not sure the team has room for more than one first lieutenant. And I know with Riza’s promotion, you’re probably not looking to do any more. But please, boss. Let me prove I can do it.”

At this, Mustang laughed. “Slow down, Havoc. You’re starting to remind me of Hughes, with how you’re worrying.”

Havoc couldn’t help but smile at the comparison of him to the kind of dad he aspired to be. Mustang went on, “Your timing might be fortuitous, actually.”

When Havoc cocked his head, confused, Mustang explained, “Fuhrer Grumman has approved my promotion to Lieutenant General.”

“Wow, congrats, boss. That’s amazing!” Havoc exclaimed. It had only been a few months since Mustang had risen to the rank of Brigadier General, and now he was flat out skipping Major General and rising to one of the highest ranks in the military.

“And with that,” Mustang went on, seeing the obvious question in Havoc’s eyes, “I’m expected to have a more senior staff. Soon-to-be-Major Hawkeye will obviously remain my adjutant.”

“Major?” Havoc echoed. Shit, Riza was skipping rungs on the ladder, too. “Good for her. She really deserves it.”

“But that leaves some room for me to play with rules. I had you next in line for a promotion regardless – you’re my third-in-command, and without your help, we would have failed on the Promised Day,” Mustang said. “I need a strong First Lieutenant.”

Havoc lit up, hardly believing it. He opened his mouth to thank him, but the slow creep of a knowing smile on Mustang's face stopped him.

“But I think I need a strong Captain more.”

It took a moment for the words to fully process, but when they did, Havoc spit out his drink in surprise, choking and coughing. “Sir…you’ve got to be shitting me.”

“Not at all,” Mustang shook his head. When Havoc started to say something else, Mustang cut him off with a harsh, “And don’t think I’m doing this just for the hell of it, Havoc, or to slide you some ‘pity money.’ This is purely based on the strength of your character and your contributions to the team.”

“Thanks, boss,” Havoc managed, voice much higher than usual.

“I do need to ask one thing of you, first,” Mustang said. “It would bolster my case for your promotion to Captain.”

“Yeah, chief, anything!” Havoc agreed.

“There’s an undercover mission I could use some help with,” Mustang said. “It’s a major assignment from the Fuhrer himself. We’d be taking down a major weapons smuggling ring working with Drachma.”

“We’d get that done before the wedding?” Havoc asked skeptically.

“Most of the groundwork is done. There’s one last sting to get the final piece of information we need – that’s where you would come in,” Mustang replied.

“I’m in,” Havoc vowed. “Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.”

Mustang hesitated, clearing his throat and continuing, “You may want to consult with Rebecca before you agree to this.”

“No, this is gonna be a surprise!” Havoc waved him off with a grin. “I can’t wait to tell Becca that she’s going to be marrying  _ Captain _ Jean Havoc!”

Mustang cleared his throat again, shifting uncomfortably. “Perhaps just tell her you’re taking a special mission for me. But I  _ strongly _ suggest talking with her.”

“Why?” Havoc finally asked.

“You’d be getting information from a mark regarding the weapons ring,” Mustang said. “By any means necessary, but preferably without violence, intimidation, or breaking cover.”

“No problem, chief. I’ve done that countless times,” Havoc insisted.

“…the mark is an extremely attractive young lady,” Mustang went on. When Havoc seemed unfazed, Mustang emphasized, “I need you to get the information by  _ any means necessary _ .”

It took him a moment, but Havoc finally caught on. “Wait…you mean like…”

Mustang nodded. “I hate to ask this of you, but I don’t have any other options.”

“Can’t you do it?” Havoc asked weakly. “Or one of the guys? I’m better at backup than taking point, you know that, boss…especially if I’d have to sleep with somebody…”

“Since the Fuhrer’s inauguration I’ve become a little too recognizable,” Mustang replied, a cocky smile flashing across his face. “And you know the boys. Falman’s engaged, and Fuery and Breda couldn’t charm their way out of a wet paper bag.”

“Sir, I’m  _ also _ engaged. And expecting  _ a baby _ ,” Havoc growled.

“Yes, well, you  _ can _ charm the dress off a lady,” Mustang chuckled. When Havoc’s expression grew dark, his commander quickly went on, “ _ Not _ that I’m requiring you to. I don’t care how you get the information, so long as you get it.”

“Fine,” Havoc nodded. “For Becca, I’ll do anything.”

Mustang smiled. “Good. The sting is on Friday, so you’ll have a few days to prepare.”

“Yeah…I should probably mention this to Becca after all,” Havoc said.

“That may be for the best,” Mustang agreed.

 

Though Rebecca initially did not take the news well – “General Smugface wants you to do  _ what _ for him?” – by the time Friday evening rolled around, she had helped Havoc pick out his outfit for the mission.

“You look good, hun,” Rebecca smiled, straightening Havoc’s tie. She cupped his cheek and kissed him. “I’d bang you.”

“I’d never in a million years expect to hear that from you,” Havoc teased, gently rubbing her ever more prominent baby bump. He leaned down and kissed Rebecca’s cheek. “I’m not gonna sleep with her, Bec. Don’t worry about that.”

“I know,” Rebecca said. She frowned. “I still can’t believe Mustang is making you do this. I know Kain probably couldn’t manage it, but he needs to give Heymans some credit.”

“Yeah, but I charmed  _ you _ ,” Havoc grinned. “I think that makes me like the world champion in ladykilling. Clearly, I’m the most qualified.”

“Nah. I just dated you for the sandwiches,” Rebecca laughed. Havoc pouted in mock offense, so she went on, “But I will say, I’ve always been a sucker for a guy with strong arms, and if one good thing came out of you being paralyzed, it was all those muscles.”

Havoc laughed as well, pulling her into a tight hug. “I love you, Becca. I’ll try to get this over with quick, so I’m not home too late.”

“I love you too, Jean. I’ll be up waiting for you,” Rebecca replied, kissing his cheek.

“You don’t need to,” Havoc shook his head. “You need rest.”

“I’m not going to be able to sleep until I know you’re home safe, anyway,” Rebecca waved him off. “Be careful, okay? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“I’m always careful,” Havoc laughed, earning a stern look from his fiancée. He kissed her once more and said, “The boss is probably waiting. I’ll see you when I get home.”

Mustang’s car was idling in front of the apartment building as Havoc trotted outside. He squeezed in the backseat – currently occupied by the other male members of the team – before Mustang floored it, speeding off towards their destination.

“We couldn’t have taken two cars?” Havoc complained, sandwiched between Breda and the door. “Becca spent half an hour ironing these clothes for me, and they’re going to be ruined before we even get there.”

Hawkeye, leisurely stretched out in the passenger seat, simply cast an “I-told-you-so” glance at Mustang, who sighed. “Whether or not your clothes are wrinkled isn’t going to make or break the mission, Lieutenant.”

“I don’t know,” Hawkeye said, a mischievous smirk on her face. “I think there are few things more attractive than a handsome man in a sharp suit.”

“Hey, hear that, boss? Hawkeye thinks I’m attractive,” Havoc laughed, leaning forward and nudging his commander.

Mustang scowled before quipping, “She said a  _ handsome _ man in a sharp suit, Havoc.”

Havoc grumbled under his breath as his compatriots laughed. When the chuckles died down, Mustang said, “Everyone knows their assignments, yes?”

“Comms,” Fuery nodded, patting the radio receiver in his lap. “We’ll all have in-ear microphones.”

“Backup, for when things go south,” Breda grunted as Fuery began to distribute the microphones. Beside him, Falman nodded.

“You mean if,” Mustang corrected. “You said when.”

“I meant what I said,” Breda replied. Mustang sighed.

“Point,” Havoc said. “Find out where their weapons storehouse is.”

“I’ll be monitoring everyone’s positions,” Hawkeye said. “So that Falman and Breda can act effectively if anything goes wrong.”

“And I’ll have the MP’s on the line, ready to arrest our leading lady once we know where the weapons depot is,” Mustang nodded. “I’ll be maintaining contact with the Fuhrer as well.”

The car pulled up in front of the bar where the mark was to be. Mustang said, “Oh, by the way. Havoc, our base of operations will be in a room at the hotel down the street. We took the liberty of getting you a room across the hall.”

Hawkeye handed the room keys to Havoc, who looked at them, puzzled. “Why do I need a hotel room? I don’t live that far away.”

Breda laughed. “In case the mark would prefer to talk  _ privately _ , moron.”

Havoc’s expression soured as he pocketed the keys. “I hate you all.”

With this, he climbed out of the car and shut the door behind him. Breda’s laughter was still audible as the car drove off, so Havoc flipped him the bird before heading into the bar.

It wasn’t his favorite kind of place, far too clean and orderly. He – and Rebecca, though she’d deny it – preferred the kind of dives he’d frequented while at the academy, the kind of place you went because you couldn’t afford anything better. The place had been dingy and dark, the drinks either far too weak or far too strong, but the bartender and the waitresses always remembered your name.

Well, at least nobody here would recognize him and blow the mission.

The mark was leaning against the bar finishing a drink as Havoc walked in. Grumpily, Havoc thought that Mustang wasn’t wrong – she was indeed extremely attractive, a pretty blonde with a big bust and a tiny waist. A younger Havoc would have just about died at the chance to flirt with her  _ and _ get paid for it.

Right now, though, he wanted to be home in his pajamas cuddling with Rebecca. As the baby bump grew, she’d taken to reading to the baby as though it were sitting on her lap, not in her womb. At first it had just been the newspaper that she’d read to the baby, but the other day Mustang had brought over a giant box of children’s books that he’d convinced his aunt to part with, from Mustang’s own childhood.

Havoc had read one or two out of nothing more than idle curiosity, until Rebecca forced him to read aloud. He’d felt silly, reading to her stomach, but had slowly grown more comfortable, even deigning to do several different voices. Rebecca had laughed and told him that bedtime stories were officially to be  _ his _ responsibility.

He sighed. He wasn’t even thirty and he was daydreaming about being home reading bedtime stories. So much for his infamous reputation. Granted, in his book, “doting dad” sounded like a little bit better reputation to have than “alcoholic man-whore,” so he couldn’t be  _ too _ mad.

The mark – Catherine Barton, or Baron, or some other “B” name – finished her drink and turned to the bartender to order another one as Havoc slid onto a barstool. She made to open her purse, but Havoc flashed his most charming smile, pulled out his wallet, and said, “A lady as beautiful as you shouldn’t ever have to buy her own drinks.”

She looked him up and down, making no attempt to hide her leering gaze, and smiled. “And a pretty boy like you shouldn’t have to drink alone.”

In his earpiece, Havoc could hear Breda badly controlling snickers at the words “pretty boy.” The laughter only distracted him for a moment before there was a sharp  _ smack _ and Hawkeye’s voice hissing,  _ “Shut up or mute the mic!” _

Catherine sat down beside Havoc, still eyeing him lasciviously. She purred, “And what’s your name, handsome?”

Havoc tried not to wilt under her piercing gaze, struggling to even remember his cover for a moment before smiling again and replying, “Jonathan. My friends call me Jack.  _ You _ may call me whatever you like.”

Catherine giggled before offering a hand to shake. “Nice to meet you, Jack. My name’s Catherine.”

He took her hand and, instead of shaking it, pressed it to his lips, earning another giggle. She said, “Well, aren’t you a chivalrous one?”

For a moment, Havoc froze. Rebecca had made the same joke the previous night, when he gallantly agreed to make his absolute least favorite food on earth for dinner, because she was craving it. His thoughts immediately turned to his fiancée, hoping she wasn’t worrying  _ too _ much about him, that she’d get some sleep before he got home…

It took every ounce of self-control to not push Catherine away from him. He felt faintly sick, regretting agreeing to this mission. It felt suspiciously close to cheating. He wasn’t a terribly great boyfriend, by most accounts, and he’d had a long string of lovers. But he was  _ not _ unfaithful.

But he forced himself to think of Rebecca again, think of how excited she’d be to be able to buy the dress she loved, and managed another fake smile and a wink. “Only for the particularly beautiful ladies.”

Catherine laughed once more, tucking her long golden hair behind her ear. “I bet you say that to everyone.”

“Well, it depends,” Havoc grinned. “If they’re pretty, then absolutely.”

She shifted in her seat, leaning closer to Havoc and putting a hand on his knee. He knew what she was doing, having fallen for it countless times before, so he kept his eyes locked on her face, rather than letting them travel to where she wanted him to look. Catherine murmured in his ear, “Once we get our drinks, how about we grab a booth, hm? A little more private, don’t you think?”

Though he offered a knowing grin in response, Havoc wanted to sigh. She was going to be tough to get information out of, with as single-minded as she seemed to be.

 

The booth was tiny and cramped, Havoc’s knees knocking hers as they sat across from each other. They finished their drinks, then another round, and another, and she’d hardly loosened up at all. No information had slipped through her lips, and Havoc was getting nervous.

Partly because to say she hadn’t loosened up wasn’t  _ quite _ right.

Catherine’s cheeks were flushed red, her eyes hooded, a silly smile plastered across her face. More concerning, though, was her hand under the table, which had slowly crept its way up Havoc’s leg. She’d started with her hand gently on his knee, and now as their fourth round was set down on the table, it had migrated significantly higher.

Havoc winced and tried to stop himself from recoiling violently. Either he had way more game than he thought, or anyone could have taken this mission. This woman was ready to go home with him and he was actively trying to  _ avoid  _ it getting that far.

He knew what she wanted, and he was going to be damned if he had to give it to her to get the information he needed.

Havoc finished telling a story about his fake job at a newspaper before teasing, “Here I am talking about myself all night, and I’ve hardly heard anything about you. What do you do, hm? Model? Break hearts?”

Catherine giggled. “Oh, I’m boring. I just work down in the warehouse district.”

“Oh?” Havoc pressed. That was important – the weapons depot was somewhere in the warehouse district. Through his earpiece, crackling with static, he could hear Mustang order Falman to find a map of the district. “What do you do there?”

She waved him off, trying to dodge his obvious interest. “I’m just a secretary. It’s really nothing exciting.”

“Anything about you is exciting,” Havoc purred, earning another laugh. “Which warehouse? I’ll have to give them a good write-up in the paper.” He winked.

Catherine shook her head, giggling once more, as she took a long sip of her drink. “Like I said, it’s boring. Let’s talk about something more interesting, hm? Maybe…somewhere even a little more private than this?”

Through the comms, Havoc could hear Breda laughing, and made a mental note to chew his ass out the next time he saw his friend. Aloud he managed, hoping his smirk was lustful enough, “I know just the place.”

 

“Um, boss, are you sure he doesn’t need any help?” Fuery asked.

Mustang carefully avoided Hawkeye’s steel-melting glare, knowing her feelings about this mission, and said, “I think Havoc is perfectly capable of handling himself in a hotel room alone with a lady. God knows he’s done it enough.”

“Yeah, but he kinda sounds like he’s in pain,” Fuery insisted.

He turned up the volume on the radio receiver, making his point very clear.

“W-w-w-wait a second, Catherine,” Havoc was pleading. “C-can we maybe slow down, a little?”

His whimpers of protest were cut off by a very loud, wet sound that was clearly Catherine kissing him. The team cringed as one at the lewd noises. Hawkeye glowered at Mustang again, who quickly dodged her gaze.

Catherine broke the kiss as the faint clink of metal on metal became obvious. Havoc again begged, “Hold on, wait,  _ please _ .”

The woman paid no heed to him, kissing him again, the quiet sound of a zipper and the rustle of fabric barely audible over the sounds of her mouth on his.

Falman blinked. “Wait, is she…”

Havoc let out an incoherent, strangled yowl, trying to again plead, “Hold on a second,” before quickly whining, “Ow, fuck, not so hard,  _ please _ !”

Mustang could feel Hawkeye’s stare, though he was too afraid to turn to look at her.

Catherine purred, “A little sensitive, are we, big guy?”

Breda made a faintly disgusted noise, though it was quickly drowned out by Havoc’s begging for Catherine to ease off. She finally acquiesced, earning a relieved sigh from Havoc, only for him to immediately make another distressed whine.

He cleared his throat to cover up his whimper, managing weakly, “Y’know, getting you out of that dress was going to be half the fun.”

“I think we’ll have a lot more fun with me out of it, don’t you think?” Catherine laughed.

“Sir, I distinctly remembering promising Rebecca that this  _ wouldn’t _ happen,” Hawkeye’s voice was ice. Mustang continued to not look at her.

“Ah, well, uh,” Havoc stammered on, before lying feebly, “Ahh, fuck my memory…I didn’t bring a condom.”

“Good thing I’m always prepared, hmm?” Catherine purred. Havoc sighed, cursing under his breath.

“Chief, seriously, I think this might be going a little too far,” Falman said. “I know we need the information, but…”

Catherine walked closer to Havoc, her voice growing louder through the receiver. The faint sound of foil tearing was audible, before she sighed, “I’d rather have a handsome guy like you bend me over my desk in the Crown building, but hey, a swanky hotel isn’t so bad.”

“Wait, was that…?” Fuery asked.

“Oh, thank  _ fuck _ ,” Havoc sighed. He yelled, “ _ Boss, you can come arrest her now! _ ”

Mustang chuckled. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but I’ll take it. Falman, Breda, go get Havoc out of his misery.”

Catherine was still staring at Havoc, confused, when the duo burst in, guns drawn. Havoc spat, “It’s about fucking time you guys helped me out!”

He was backed against the wall, his shirt half-undone, his belt and pants in a pool around his ankles, his boxers unbuttoned, while Catherine stood a short distance away, clad in nothing but skimpy lace underthings.

Falman awkwardly picked up her dress from where it had been flung to the floor, stretching his arm out towards her. Eyes fixed on the floor, he cleared his throat and said, “If you would be so kind, miss.”

Catherine reluctantly put her dress on as Havoc grumpily pulled his pants back up, swearing under his breath as he re-dressed himself. Breda and Falman cuffed her once she was dressed, leading her out of the room, Havoc close behind.

Hawkeye, Fuery, and Mustang met them in the hallway. Catherine eyed the trio, glanced at Falman and Breda, and sighed, “Well, at least you sent the cute one after me.”

Mustang frowned, obviously offended, before replying coolly, “Yes, well, we didn’t really have a lot of other options.”

She made a point of looking the team, particularly Mustang, up and down again before replying, “I can see that.”

Hawkeye's sudden coughing fit fooled no one, earning a glare from Mustang. He scowled, “You boys know the plan. Let’s get her to Central Command for a proper interrogation.”

The men nodded, leading the woman off, leaving Havoc, Hawkeye, and Mustang alone. Havoc looked less than pleased.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?” Havoc demanded, still tucking his shirt back in.

Mustang sighed. “I suppose you’ve earned it.”

“Fuck you!” Havoc snapped, jabbing a finger into Mustang’s chest. “I told you I wasn’t going to fuck the information out of anybody, and you just about made me do it!”

“I told you we needed that information by any means necessary,” Mustang frowned. “You accepted those terms.”

“Yeah, well, I thought you guys would help me out, and you just left me in there!” Havoc went on angrily. “Now I’m out all my fucking rent money from buying the drinks, and my dick hurts from getting felt up so hard!”

“Well, we can’t exactly fix the latter,” Hawkeye replied, only a touch of amusement in her voice. “But we can certainly fix the former. You shouldn’t be out your personal money for expenses incurred on a mission.”

With this, she turned expectantly to Mustang, who sighed. “Fine. It was my mission, so I’ll foot the bill.”

He pulled out his wallet, placing a small stack of bills in Havoc’s hand. Havoc didn’t move, continuing to hold his hand out expectantly, so Mustang sighed again and handed him an additional stack of money.

Hawkeye cleared her throat, so Mustang caved and handed the remainder of his cash to his beleaguered lieutenant. Havoc shoved the wad of bills in his pocket, continuing, “I’m taking Monday off.”

“I think you’ve earned it,” Mustang chuckled. “Enjoy your weekend,  _ Captain _ .”

This finally brought a crooked smile to Havoc’s face. “Yeah. Yeah, I will. Thanks, boss.”

“You can expect the formal paperwork on your desk when you return Tuesday,” Mustang said. “I’ll ensure that the financial paperwork is fast-tracked, so you have your raise and promotion bonus in plenty of time for your wedding preparations.”

“Thanks, chief,” Havoc nodded. “Even if this sucked serious ass, I appreciate you giving me the chance.”

Mustang smiled. “Of course.”

Hawkeye nudged him, so Mustang went on, “Additionally, I plan on speaking to the Fuhrer regarding your bonus. For all the trouble you’ve been through…I feel we could perhaps raise the amount somewhat.”

Havoc grinned, images of his radiant bride-to-be calming his anger somewhat. “Now  _ that’s _ some pity money I’ll accept.”


End file.
